24

Chapter 24: Christmas vacation

Early Christmas morning Severus woke to an empty, but surprisingly warm dormitory. Most other students were home for the holiday. Guess the elves were busy last night.

Cheery decorations adorned the room and welcoming candles spread a soft, golden glow. At least six or seven pine boughs filled with golden glitter and red Christmas ornaments hung on the walls. Each crimson globe sparkled and glinted in the candlelight.

Darkness still blanketed the world outside, but the twinkling stars and half-moon offered enough light to paint the snow-covered ground pale, shimmering silver.

To complete the scene, the spicy scent of ginger cookies beckoned, cutting through the pleasant, woodsy smell of pine.

Christmas… another sad excuse for everyone to act like fools and spend time on ridiculous decorations and frills they'll only take down in a week or two. And all the over-decorating. He grimaced at the memory of some other students' enthusiasm in years past. Plain and simple is far superior.

Severus lay in bed, letting the moment soak in. I suppose this is nice…

Almost thirty minutes later he finally sat up and yawned, still feeling strange for laying abed so long as it served no purpose.

In one corner, on a small table, sat a little tray of cookies and warm milk—the source of the ginger aroma. A golden Christmas star hung above the offering, and—

What in the—He did a double-take. At the foot of Severus' bed, atop the coverlet, heaped a small mountain of presents. Where in Merlin's name did all those come from?

Severus—in his previous life—always spent Christmas at Hogwarts, but he only received a scattering of presents: one or two from his mother, a few things from Lily, and in the last few years of school several from Malfoy. But the ones from him were far from gifts of affection. He sat up to study the pile. I'd bet none of these are from Malfoy. He smirked. Or Dumbledore.

In his years as a teacher, Dumbledore always gave him a pair of colorful socks or a set of ridiculous pajamas. Severus made a point of never returning the gesture. But if these aren't from them—except Lily, perhaps—then where did they come from? He jerked back. Are any of these Death Eater attempts to kill me? He shook his head. No. No, Dumbledore would've detected that. After all, we established my status as a target last summer, so Dumbledore knew quite well to check.

Severus eyed the colorful stack, anyway.

Lily's handwriting decorated the top gift's card, so he began with it. At least I'm fairly certain this one's safe… He removed the package carefully and allowed a relaxed smile as he held the large gift, wrapped in red paper. When he opened it, his smile broadened. A set of wizard's robes. They were a beautiful forest green with bronze lining and dark brown accents. Not too flashy. She chose well. He held the robes out. I actually quite like these. Granted they aren't what I'd have chosen for myself, but I wouldn't mind walking around in them. I suppose she remembers my… distinct lack of wardrobe aside from school uniforms. Nice of her to offer such a subtle solution.

Guilt tugged at him. Wish I could've bought her something instead of just charming an ordinary object.

Lily knew he'd never had any money, and the best gift he'd ever given her was when they were ten. He'd made Lily a necklace out of bird feathers. It embarrassed him even now to remember that, but it reminded him of this year's Christmas gift to her. He'd collected some lily petals and put them in a small jewelry box. When she opened the box, the petals would dance, arrange in a circle, and transform into a bright, silver petal necklace of Severus' design.

There were many drawbacks to such a gift. Canceling the charm would be easy—if it came too close to magic or magic intended to harm the wearer, the charm would break, and the petals would become ordinary again. If Severus died or was drained of magic, the same would result.

Though I hope the last two won't be the case…

Another soft present, in identical paper, sat beneath Lily's. Severus read the card and sighed in relief. "Marguerite and Harold Evans," it read. Odd to get a gift from them. He opened the card anyway. Marguerite wished him a very Happy Christmas and ended by saying she felt a little guilty about throwing out his clothes when he didn't have any money. "Think of this as a little compensation," she wrote.

Severus opened the package to find a small pile of new muggle clothes: two pairs of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a short-sleeved shirt, and a warm sweater. A practical gift—and much needed.

At the bottom of the stack was a box of homemade cookies and some candy. He set them aside. Nice of them, even if I'll never eat it.

Severus set the Evans' gifts aside and gave the other presents another hard examination. Who would have sent these? He slowly flipped open the card atop the next gift. Lupin? Should've known. He took the small package, this one wrapped in blue and gold. Didn't get him anything. Not that I feel bad about it. He snorted. What Lupin does is his own business.

Severus opened the package. A mokeskin pouch—a small bag capable of holding almost anything, but from which only the owner could retrieve contents. Barring the ability to block or negate a curse or hex, the bag would destroy itself and its contents. He examined the bag. Spelled against curses. He nodded in approval. Small, easy, useful. I suppose Lupin isn't the worst person to associate with.

The number of potential gift-givers dwindled further, and Severus warily reached for the next gift. He opened the little card while holding the present as far away as possible.

I know you hate candy, so I thought you might like this.

Merry Christmas,

Penelope.

Severus held the rigid package closer. Penelope. Who'd have thought? Upon opening it, Severus found a hardback book on defensive spells—or rather, on the use of defensive spells depending on the situation. Also useful. She's quite right. I'd much rather have this than candy.

No visible card accompanied the next gift, which was sloppily wrapped and splashed with random glitter patches. A big red bow topped it, precariously secured by a sizeable puddle of glue that only managed to catch the corner of the bow's base.

He muttered Revelio over the package but found nothing magical or poisonous about it. He gave it a cautious poke. As he picked up the gift, the bow wobbled, in serious danger of falling off. And the paper did fall off when he unstuck the first fold.

What… is that? A purple, teddy-bear-like thing with buttons for eyes and a crookedly stitched smile stared at him. He examined it from every angle. Looks harmless enough, but, then again, I've found that things with the appearance of innocence are often most dangerous. He touched a finger to his lips in thought. Looks homemade—terribly so. No consistent proportions, large, haphazard stitches. The left eye hung loosely. One tug and it would be off.

He searched the wrapping for an explanation and found a card that looked like a jar of glitter exploded on it. Large, lopsided letters, written in crayon, filled the front of the card. Severus squinted at the glitter-induced glare on the cover and opened the card.

Dear Severus,

I made a Doggie for you.

It's for when I am asleep, it is really hard to watch over myself, so my Doggie does it for me.

You see, the trouble about being a warrior is you have lots of enemies, otherwise being a warrior's just boring. And you are a really big famous one, so you must have many really famous enemies, like the goblin king.

I'm afraid Doggie isn't a very good fighter, but he can wake you up when there's something out there.

Happy Christmas,

Evelyn.

Despite the simple sentences peppered with spelling errors, Severus couldn't help but laugh. This is the worst kind of present—pure sentimentality. But he couldn't bring himself to even consider throwing it away. No one is ever finding out I have this. Ever!

One small package remained, lonely, wrapped in brown paper with a neat silver bow to top it. The ensemble fit in the palm of Severus' hand. The card was as unassuming as the package, written in a very precise hand. It read:

Mr. Severus Snape,

It has come to my attention that, as a recent orphan, you have no Wizarding family.

I also know you either have, in the close past, or will soon, turn seventeen.

It is a custom in most Wizarding families to give one coming of age a watch. Tradition rules that it should be the same watch handed down from father to son.

I have no family left, and my old watch needs passing to someone. I would be honored to place it in the hands of such a disciplined, well-mannered and talented young man who will no doubt set his mark on the world.

I hope you realize the significance of this gift and will go on proving yourself worthy of it.

Augustus Prince.

Though phrased to appear detached, dignified and impersonal, the message's meaning wasn't. Severus' hand shook. The silver bow rustled as he pulled away the wrapping to find a wooden box. He held his breath and opened it.

Inside lay the silver pocket watch, cushioned on midnight blue velvet. It gleamed and glinted, inviting him to pick it up. Augustus used this over summer vacation—when we were at the Ministry. Severus brushed one finger against the cold silver. The clockwork mechanisms vibrated softly as Severus traced the "P" engraved on the watch's cover along with the crest of a crowned hawk.

"Sly devil," Severus whispered. "Still want me to be your apprentice, do you?"

The watch drew him in with its delicate intricacy.

Last time, I'd probably have been bitter enough to sell this, along with everything else of the Prince family. Well… what I didn't throw out, that is. Maybe that was this watch's fate back then. Guilt pricked him over his neglect to sort through his semi-inheritance.

He lifted the watch from the case and let the heavy, silver chain slide through his fingers as he opened it. Both watch hands and the interior accents were gold. Instead of numbers, a glittering diamond marked each hour. Beautiful. Probably quite old. And valuable. Has this belonged to every head of the Prince family? Funny how fate always seems to deliver things like this to the right hands in the end.

I should probably tell Augustus soon… It's almost cruel to keep this from the old man any longer. Whatever history was between him and… Mother—it's long past. Probably horrendously complicated. But… Augustus never disowned her, or I'd never have been heir to his estate.

He clicked the watch shut and traced the cover's engraving again. Mother lacked the strength to go to anyone about Tobias, or any of it. Perhaps if she'd gone to Augustus, he'd have helped her. He seems lonely up in that mansion, and bored. If I've learned anything the past couple months, it's that people hate being alone and crave usefulness.

But I want to tell him personally. This is too important to say through a thank-you card.

No more presents to open.

He was glad to be alone. The scattered gifts left Severus with no words, or any idea how to being to conjure some. At least no one came to present them personally… I don't know what I'd have done.

What should I say to thank everyone? "It was nice. Thank you for thinking of me"? That seems an understatement. I hate doing this! And I won't write as though I've fallen over myself in gratitude. Something formal should be fine. After all, they should know me well enough by now to realize that's how I prefer to express myself.

Severus set down the watch, got out of bed and donned the new robes from Lily. Strange to wear anything other than black, but… He stopped in front of the mirror. They don't look bad. Even manage to make me look less pasty. In fact… I look… almost normal.

He took the watch from his bed. Should I wear it? The chest pocket of his new robes had a loop for a watch chain. Or hide it away where it'll no doubt collect dust until the day I fall over dead—preferably of old age?

With a sigh he latched it to the loop and settled it into the pocket.

Downstairs, two other Slytherins, both Life Defenders, waited in the common room, Katherine Jules—the second year girl who'd almost clocked Severus and Remus with her bag—and Esben Chapman, an unassuming third year.

At least Jules got the charm right after that. Not to mention the unbounded creativity she's shown for it since then—more than I've ever had, anyway. Chapman's no dullard either.

"We've got a present for you!" Katherine blurted as Severus passed the pair, standing near the fireplace.

He stopped. Surely, they're joking. Why would people I didn't even know last time care anything about me this time? And a Christmas gift? This is ridiculous.

Katherine giggled. "Those are nice robes! They look great on you." The second she said it, her cheeks bloomed, but she grinned, unrepentant.

Esben looked ready to kick her, but Katherine poked him playfully before he could.

"Show him!" Katherine urged.

Esben stepped aside.

"We had no idea what you like," said Katherine. "So, we guessed… Lucy chipped in too. She's the one who insisted on gingerbreads."

Esben took the basket from the table behind him and handed it to Severus. "I told you he wouldn't like it," he whispered to Katherine.

The basket brimmed with candy, cookies, pastries, and other sweets. Lovely… His teeth ached just to see such an assortment. "No, I like it," he assured. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I don't have anything to give you in return."

"That's okay." Katherine's grin didn't falter. "We can all share them later!"

Odd gift if she just wanted to do that. But… maybe that means they want to spend time with me. I suppose that's the purpose of such gifts.

Esben still looked embarrassed, despite his friend's enthusiasm. "I told her you didn't want something so childish," Esben muttered to Severus.

"No, it's great," Severus said. "Really, it is," he added with a smile. Thank Merlin I'm a good liar.

Esben's look of doubt vanished.

"I'll put it away so we can get to breakfast." Severus debated dragging the basket upstairs but opted to replace it on its table beside the fireplace. If I leave it there, perhaps Jules will have eaten it for me by the evening.

Both Katherine and Esben accompanied Severus to breakfast.

"Why aren't either of you home for Christmas?" Severus said.

Esben answered first. "Mum and Dad are very poor," he mumbled. "They've got my little sister to take care of too, so I thought it'd be better if they didn't have to pay any more for me than they have to. Christmas dinner for an extra mouth is worth a month's rent for them. It's their own fault, really. They're old blood… but the money ran out last generation, and they still refuse to get day jobs."

"And I'm an orphan," Katherine said and slipped closer to Esben. Her cheery tone perplexed Severus. "What?" She said. "It's not really a bad thing, being an orphan—at least… it doesn't have to be."

"I suppose not," Severus muttered.

"What about you?" Katherine said.

Should've expected that… "I'm an orphan too." Technically, a lie. But true enough with Mother gone. And if that slug Tobias isn't dead by now, I don't care.

"Really!" Katherine said in wide-eyed surprise. "But I thought… I was sure you were from an old pureblood family."

"If you're asking if I grew up in a mansion eating from silver plates and practicing magic from birth, no. I didn't."

Katherine's and Esben's astonishment could have filled a room.

"No, I grew up in the muggle world—just, as I suppose, you did," he said to Katherine.

"I thought you were a half-blood, part of the Prince family. That's what everyone says," said Esben.

"It's… complicated." How do I explain this? "It's true my mother was heir to the Prince estate, but she died. When she married a muggle, I suppose she broke loose from the Princes, anyway. They don't even know I exist."

"Really?" Esben's eyebrows shot beneath his bangs. "You really did grow up in the muggle world!"

"Yes. Background doesn't truly matter," said Severus as they entered the Great Hall.

Inside, the handful of other students on-campus for the holiday clustered in groups. One, the all-too-familiar Irish girl—Lucy O'Hara—instantly found them.

Lucy's manner never changed. At first, she sat quietly, but her own silence seemed to unnerve her, so she rambled. At times, a subject of interest to her rose, and she snatched it, chattering twice as fast—at speeds nearly impossible to stop.

I understand she's lonely, and unsure if we'll leave her, but that lostness in her eyes sometimes… He suppressed a shudder. I won't be starting a conversation with her. Not of my own volition, anyway.

"Morning, Lucy," Katherine said happily.

So, it begins…

"Morning! Katherine, Esben." Lucy's wide smile glowed until she addressed Severus. "Erhm…" She gulped. "Ha-Happy Christmas, Snape… Severus?"

Might as well get it over with. "Thank you for the present," said Severus.

Lucy brightened again. "I knew it! Gingerbread is always a good idea. Can't go wrong with gingerbread!"

Yeah… sure… Go ahead and believe that if you like.

"You got some good presents, I hope?" Lucy said as they all sat at the end of one long table. "I got a great present from Penelope. She's so nice! And I didn't even get anything for her!" She wilted a little but didn't break pace. "Should I apologize? She went through so much trouble, and I didn't even think!"

All that in one breath. At least I'm not sitting next to her. "I'm sure she understands and didn't expect anything in return," said Severus.

"What if I send an owl now?!" Lucy said as though she hadn't heard Severus at all. "Then she can still get it on Christmas. Right? Except… Where would I get a present for her? What does she like? Oh no!" She clapped her face in dismay.

"Lucy." Katherine patted the girl's back. "Breathe."

Lucy obeyed, but stopped after hauling in one breath.

"She meant let it out too," said Severus.

Lucy gasped.

Severus shook his head. "Knowing Penelope, she just wanted to make you happy. She's always trying to do that—make others happy. If I were you, I wouldn't think about it. What did she give you, anyway?"

"Gingerbread cookies."

Severus chuckled. She made such a fuss out of cookies. Well… she's a bit of a simpleton. It couldn't be helped.

That evening, Severus sat around the fireplace in the Slytherin common room with the other three Life Defenders, who, in truth, he barely knew.

I'm just a mentor to them, but they're genuinely interested in spending time with me—even enjoy it. I suppose… I don't mind so much either.

"No, seriously, don't ever trust a leprechaun," said Lucy. "They're little liars. There's no pot of gold, and if you go looking for it, they'll push you into the swamp."

"You know this from experience?" said Esben.

Lucy blushed. "It'd be great to have all that gold though. I could get Pipsqueak all the Firewhisky he wants." She sighed. "Stupid leprechaun didn't even offer me any wishes… It's a right rip-off it is."

Severus raised a brow. "You'd waste a wish on Firewhisky? For your pet anthrax?"

"Aye," Lucy said. "Do you know how expensive that stuff is?"

Do I. He shook his head. "If you could wish for anything—Anything?" he said.

Lucy frowned and stared at the floor, face a deep red.

"I wouldn't even know what to wish for…" said Katherine, taking the attention off Lucy. "What about you, Severus?"

"I wouldn't have wished at all," Severus replied. "If I can't get it myself, it isn't worth having. Besides, a leprechaun would twist my words no matter what I said. That's what their kind do, so why even bother wishing? Is it so much trouble to use your brain?"

Lucy frowned, puzzled.

"What would you wish for?" Katherine caught Lucy off-guard. "Is it really Firewhisky?"

"I…" Lucy began. "I don't—I mean I…"

Of course! Her father just died, and she couldn't attend his funeral because it was too dangerous. Her mixed blood is why she's here instead—where it's safer.

"A nice warm jumper!" Lucy blurted so abruptly it could only be a lie. "How could that be twisted round?" she said, proud to have outwitted a fictional, wish-granting leprechaun.

"Unless you wake up with a steeplechaser standing in your bedroom, upset because he hasn't any hay," Severus said. Dodged that bullet.

Lucy almost choked on a cookie. "Well then," she sputtered, "it's good the fold is close. And regular horses are nice too." She chuckled.

The rest of the day passed quietly, and that night Severus prepared for bed the same way he always did, but this time he neatly folded his new robes and placed the silver watch on his nightstand beside Evelyn's strange plush.

This… is the best Christmas I can remember.

As he fell asleep, the only witness to his smile was the misshapen dog crafted for him by a very grateful little girl.

Edited by Dtill359